Trouble With The Universe
by A Soldier Of My Own
Summary: ModernSoulmateAU: Having a Soulmate was a wonderful thought. Unfortunately, fate had other plans. Sam and Eugene discover exactly what the universe has in store for them and wonder what they did to deserve it. (Eugene R. x OC)
1. I'm Having a Good Time

A/N: A soul mate trope. Yeeeeaaah. I heard about it, and I thought it was literally so cute, so I wanted to give it a quick little story. It's a modern AU; boys are still soldiers and whatnot, and Gene is a medic/doctor in training. Sam is a nurse. I hate these two nerds; they are ruining my life. But I also love it. Ugh.

This is done purely for fun; I mean absolutely no offense by any of it! I hope no one is offended. I have nothing but the utmost respect for these men.

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 **Part 1: I'm Having a Good Time**

Eugene Roe ran a hand over his face as he stepped out of the hospital.

The automatic doors slid closed behind him, and he sighed heavily, shoulders slumping. It had been another long, hellish shift at the hospital, and it wouldn't have been so bad except for the party of drunk idiots who ended up in the emergency room after one too many tequila shots.

Speaking of tequila, he _really_ needed a drink.

But the fact that he had an early shift tomorrow kept him from acting on his desire, and he sighed again as he checked his watch. It was nearing twelve a.m. His shift should've been over an hour ago. "Fuck," he mumbled, just as his cellphone buzzed in his pocket. The quiet noise startled Gene, and he fumbled with the phone before managing to bring it to his ear. "Jeeze, hello?"

"Gene, where da fuck you been?"

Babe Heffron's voice on the other line made Gene smile just slightly; since transferring to Easy Company in mid-August, Babe had become Gene's roommate on base, and the medic had to admit, he did like the guy. Babe was a good friend, always eager to help whenever he could, and he was clean and liked to keep the house tidy and cooked like no one's business, so that was a plus. He even volunteered to pick Gene up when he had late shifts like this, although he got a little cranky if the shifts ran overtime.

"Sorry, Heffron," Gene apologized quickly. "Shift ran late." As it had most nights for the last month, ever since he'd started his internship as a resident at the New Jersey based hospital. Only a few miles from where they were stationed, it provided the best opportunity for him to get some real practice in the medical field. The army had already helped him complete his initial training and med school, and his internship was the final step in a career that felt a long time coming. He was aiming to either be an army surgeon, or working from one of the big hospitals in a major city.

"Eh, don't worry about it, doc. I'll be there to getcha in a sec." Even as Heffron spoke, Gene could see familiar headlights pulling into the parking lot and only a moment later, Babe's truck pulled up in front of him. It stopped in front, and Gene pulled the door open, hopping in and tossing his backpack in the floor.

"Thanks, Heffron."

Babe rolled his eyes, grumbling as he pulled out of the lot and onto the road, headed back to base. "Damn it, Gene, I told you to call me Babe."

Gene shrugged sheepishly; he never had it in him to use nicknames. He wasn't sure why, but they just felt…wrong? He caught hell for it from most of the guys in his company, but it was all good-natured ribbing, and it didn't bother him much. It was just his nature; no matter how close he got to someone, he didn't usually use their nickname.

"Just drive, Heffron," Gene mumbled, already feeling fatigue creeping into his bones. "I really need some sleep."

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Samantha Branigan growled quietly as she stepped out of the hospital.

Sometimes, she seriously hated herself for choosing to be a nurse. She'd never intended to be one, truth be told; she wanted to become a doctor, but medical school was _way_ too expensive, and by the time she'd finished her RN program, she was so far in debt that she doubted she'd ever claw her way out.

This shift tonight had been a lot more difficult than most of them; a bunch of drunk idiots had come in and started making too much noise, and one of the newest residents, Eugene-something-or-other, was elected to aid them because no one else who was working the ER wanted to deal with a bunch of fucking stupid kids who didn't know what their limits were. Sam had felt a little bad for him, because he _was_ new, and he shouldn't have had to deal with it alone, but they didn't pay her enough to clean up a nineteen-year-old-wannabe-cool-guy-frat-boy's vomit.

Of course, the case she had been dealing with was a lot harder than the new guy's.

A man and a woman had been in a car accident, and the woman was in critical condition. The man was okay; minor cuts and bruises, and a few scrapes here and there. They'd both been admitted, and Sam had the dubious honor of checking the man over, making sure he was all right and not concussed. She'd ordered that he stay the night, at the very least, to make sure nothing went wrong, especially internally.

His wife was another matter.

Sam knew about Soulmates; everybody in the whole God damn world knew about Soulmates. The person you were meant to be with forever, the one who was _made_ for you. Every person had special words written on their hips, tucked safely out of sight of prying eyes, waiting to be spoken by that special person. When that happened, you knew they were yours forever.

There was only one problem.

Sam didn't have any words.

She'd been born without them, a rare occurrence, but an occurrence nonetheless. She'd researched the phenomenon, finding out that one in about every nine-hundred thousand people had been born without a Soulmate. Most of what she read was encouraging; she could find someone who had no words, someone who was like her, and live a pretty happy life. She never got involved with anyone who had words on them because that was just a recipe for heartbreak, but it didn't mean it didn't bother her any less. It was sobering to think that the universe didn't have any plans for you beyond your simple existence, and that they hadn't created someone especially for you.

Some of what she read _wasn't_ as encouraging; she read about people who had no words, but who fell in love with someone who did. They were promptly left behind when their loved ones found their Soulmate, doomed to a broken heart and probably a life of alcoholism. Hell, there were even movies about unrequited love, either from people who said the words of someone they weren't Soulmates with, or people who had no words who pined after someone that wasn't meant for them. It was very depressing, if she was honest with herself.

Sam kept her distance from people; she'd gone on dates once or twice with men who had words, but broke it off immediately once she found out for sure. She was not about to stupidly involve herself with someone who was destined to leave her for another. Anytime a man showed interest, she generally tried to shut it down before it started. She didn't need that kind of drama in her life.

But the man and the woman who had come in from the car accident had nearly torn her heart in two, and made her curse the irony of the universe's wicked grand plans, or lack thereof, for her.

When she'd brought the man in to see his wife—who was hooked up to a ventilator and a heart monitor, but who was in relatively stable condition—the way he had held her hand and looked at her, with such love and tenderness and utter devotion had nearly done Sam in, and she'd had to step outside to compose herself. She'd caught the eye of that new resident, Eugene-what's-his-name, but he hadn't said a word to her, and had immediately rolled up his sleeves to dive back into a room full of a bunch of drunk idiots who really needed to sober the hell up.

Blowing out a long breath, Sam wrapped her arms around herself as she strode towards her car, eager to get home and get to bed. Maybe if she tried hard enough, she could forget today had ever happened.

She'd forget the look the man had leveled his wife with, forget the love and absolutely soul wrenching loyalty and care he'd looked at her with. She'd forget she didn't have any words on her hip, and forget that she was probably destined to be alone, because what were the odds of finding someone else without words who would put up with _her_?

Sam laughed bitterly; yeah right. More like if she drank enough _vodka_ , she'd forget how fucking messed up the universe actually was.

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Gene blinked bleary eyes at the way-too-chipper man in front of him as Babe slid him a plate of breakfast food.

"Seriously, Heffron?" he asked, staring down at a Sunnyside up happy face with the bacon for a smile. He raised an eyebrow at Babe, who was humming cheerfully like a fucking housewife as he fixed his own plate. Ugh, it was too early for this.

" _Seriously_. A balanced breakfast is the _only_ way to start the day," Babe chirped.

"Why is it smilin'?"

"I think the better question is: why aren't _you_ smilin'? I made you fucking breakfast. Be grateful, ya asshat."

Rolling his eyes, Gene decided he might as well dig in, and wasn't surprised that the food was delicious; Heffron was a really good cook, a fact that he'd discovered early on and silently praised because being as busy as he was with Easy Company and the hospital, his usual meals tended to come from a bag or a box. If he even ate at all, of course.

"What's on the agenda today?" he asked, glancing up at the red-head who sat himself at the table across from him, eagerly tucking into his own food.

"Cap'n said drills. Somethin' about getting' ready for the War Games, I guess. Wants Easy to be in top shape. Aren't you comin' to those?" Babe looked confused; Eugene was Easy's medic, so of course he should know about what the company was expected to do day-to-day.

Gene shook his head. "Naw, not today. I got an early shift at the hospital, so I'm excused. I'd like to say I won't be as busy as you boys, but I'd be lyin'. If it's anything like last night…" He trailed off and shivered; he'd had terrible dreams about frat boys vomiting all over his cleanly pressed, military-issued uniform.

"Hey, yeah, that's-" Babe began, but he was cut off by the ringing of their doorbell. When Gene didn't make a move to get it, Babe huffed and slid from his chair, striding towards the door and opening it without checking to see who it was.

"'Ey, Babe, how ya doin'?"

Babe grinned at Bill Guarnere, Joe Toye, and George Luz, who stood just on the threshold of the door, eagerly bouncing on their feet. Well, George was bouncing; Toye was too dignified for that, and Bill was leaning against the doorframe, looking amused. "Bill, Joe, Luz," Babe greeted. "Come on in; I just made breakfast."

Not one to pass up food (and knowing how good of a cook their red-haired friend was), the three men immediately accepted the invitation, making themselves comfortable around the small kitchen and grabbing plates of bacon and eggs. Gene was silent, quietly eating his food as quick as he could before he had to leave for his shift at the hospital.

"Hey, so we're goin' out with some of the guys tonight; you and Babe should come, doc," Luz quipped, stuffing a bite of egg into his mouth.

"Yeah! You never come out with any of us!" Babe responded, pointing his fork at Gene with narrowed eyes. "You have to. I know for a fact that ya got the day off tomorrow, and so does the rest'a the company. We can get drunk and shit and not have to worry about waking up early tomorrow. Plus, there will be some cute girls there." He shot a meaningful look at Joe, Bill and Luz, as if silently asking for backup.

"Oh, right!" Bill agreed. "Frannie said she's gonna ask some of the gals from the hospital to come. That oughta make you feel right at home, Gene."

Gene knew that Bill's Soulmate, Frannie, was the receptionist at the hospital. He'd spoken to her once or twice, and he liked the girl. He just didn't know how he'd feel going out and drinking with a bunch of unfamiliar girls from the hospital, especially when there was the possibility of making an ass out of himself. He liked to keep work and private life separate.

"No thanks," Gene mumbled around his food, chewing thoughtfully.

"Oh, come on. Have you even _talked_ to anyone at the hospital yet?" Babe wheedled.

"Whoa, hey. I talk to people, Heffron. Just…it's for work, not for socializin'."

"And that _right there_ is your problem, doc," Bill responded. "You are surrounded by pretty dames all day, and you don't do a damn thing about it. If you don't talk to them, you won't ever find your Soulmate. That's the whole point of the damn mark, ya know."

"Maybe I'm not interested in findin' my Soulmate righ' now," Gene fired back, standing up from his chair and grabbing his cleared plate. He dumped it in the sink, grabbing his backpack and shrugging on his uniform top. His boots thudded on the hardwood as he headed to the door, eager to be away from the men and to get a little space; he'd drive himself today. "See ya'll later. Don' work too hard."

He was gone before any of them could respond, and Babe turned to fix Bill with a look. "Way to go Bill. Don't blame me if you wake up with your arm stitched to your head and a missing kidney."

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Sam woke up with a major hangover.

She'd groaned and grumbled all the way through her morning routine, seriously considering calling in sick. But her shabby one-bedroom rental and the mass of student debt she'd accumulated told her that she'd better haul ass to work and stop complaining about it.

She now found herself running towards the door of the hospital, ten minutes late and a granola bar sticking out of the corner of her mouth. "Shit, shit, shit," she mumbled around her 'breakfast,' stopping at the sliding doors and searching for her badge. When she came up empty, she cursed again. Of _course_ she'd leave her badge at home; her spare was in her locker inside, but until then, she'd be forced to walk around to use the visitor entrance.

Growling under her breath, Sam snapped off a chunk of her granola bar and got ready to run when she heard the sound of boots just behind her. She canted her head to see that new doctor-in-training, the one from the military (who looked super-hot in his uniform, but hell if she'd ever say anything about it to him), walking towards her. He had a puzzled look on his face as he stopped just beside her, backpack slung over his shoulder.

The two didn't say a word to one another, and Sam shrugged, smiling sheepishly as the man seemed to realize she didn't have her badge. He moved slowly, still watching her as he leaned over and swiped his own badge, and the doors beeped before opening. He graciously allowed her to go through first (chivalrous _and_ hot in a uniform? _Check!_ ), and Sam scuttled through, gulping down her granola bar as he walked in after her. They stood there awkwardly for a few moments, before he stuck out a hand, and she gingerly took it.

"Eugene Roe," he introduced. "I'm…new around here. I've seen you around, though. You're…Samantha Branigan, right?"

"Eugene Roe. You're the Cajun with the healing hands I've heard so much about."

Sam's smile was bright, but faltered only slightly when she saw him stiffen, his grip suddenly tightening around her hand. "Um…" she managed, concerned at the look he was leveling her with; it was _way_ too intense for someone who she'd just introduced herself to. "You can just call me Sam, by the way." She glanced down at their hands, still joined, and still shaking, if only just slightly. "You can…stop shaking my hand now?"

Eugene gave a start, as if just realizing what he was doing, and quickly retracted his hand as if he was burned. He was still looking at her with a stare that was making her stomach do strange little flip-flops, when he said again, very slowly: "I'm new around here. I've seen you around, though. You're Samantha Branigan, right?"

Sam was now utterly confused. Hadn't they just…done this? What the hell was this guy's problem? "Yeah…you…you just said that, Eugene. Look, I'm really glad to finally know your name, but I have to get to work. I'm already late. It was nice meeting you; I'll definitely see you around the ER?" When Gene nodded jerkily, Sam flashed him an uncertain grin, before turning and jogging off down the corridor to her locker; she needed her badge if she was going to get anything done today. Mostly though, she wanted to escape that look on Gene's face, the one that reminded her of shattered glass and kicked puppies.

Anyway, she was glad to be busy; the more work she had to do, the less time she'd have to think about the hot-but-odd Cajun in his sexy uniform.

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Gene stood dumbly in the middle of the hallway, thigh burning where he knew his words had turned a shimmering quicksilver after she'd said them.

Samantha Branigan was his Soulmate.

Samantha. Branigan. Was his _Soulmate_. 

But the only problem with that was, he wasn't hers. He'd even repeated what he thought were her words, what he was sure would make some flash of recognition light her eyes up. But she'd just looked at him like he was insane, and a little creepy. He imagined that the way he'd come off probably had been sort of disturbing, especially if she was his Soulmate but he wasn't hers.

But how could that be?

 _Everyone_ had a Soulmate, didn't they? He knew about some people who didn't have one, who didn't have words on their skin, but those were so few and far between that they didn't make much of a blip on his radar. He'd also heard of some people who found their Soulmate, spoke their words, only to realize that their Soulmate was not theirs. They would be doomed to follow them and love them forever, their only concern the happiness of the person they weren't meant to be with, and inevitably either died of a broken heart, sacrificed themselves in some way for their Soulmate, or lived a lonely, single life as they watched the person meant for them find love in the arms of someone else. That was what had just happened, he surmised: Samantha Branigan was his Soulmate.

But he wasn't _hers_.

He felt an immediate urge to run after her, suddenly feeling empty and cold without her next to him. Was this what it was like to find your Soulmate? This crushing, intense feeling of devotion and love that overwhelmed you and made you want to be by their side forever?

His fingers gently rested on his hip, on where the words were still warm against his skin, and he frowned in the direction Sam had gone.

 _His_ Soulmate.

Destined to be with someone else.

Gene shook his head; he knew the universe had a fucked up sense of right and wrong, but he'd never imagined it would screw him over so badly. All he could do now was try to do his job, and maybe if he was lucky, he would get to talk to Sam again before the day was over.

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Sam rolled her shoulders, feeling the intense stare of Eugene Roe prickling along the back of her neck like a million tiny little spiders.

She was leaning desperately against the reception desk in the ER, charts in hand but eyes unseeing as she stared down at them. Since their meeting that morning, Roe had been staring at her all day, watching her with that stare of his that made her toes curl and made her want to jump into his arms and yell 'take me now!' It was utterly disturbing, and Frannie—the receptionist, bless her soul—had figured something was up.

"Okay, Sam, spill. You've been ducking and dodging something all day. What happened? And who is it?"

Sam made a shushing motion; Eugene was only some little ways away, still watching her, though he was fairly preoccupied with a patient at the moment. She knew he was sneaking glances her way, and she was torn between confronting him about it, or throwing herself at him. "Oh my God, Frannie," Sam hissed. "Okay, so this morning, I had the weirdest exchange with the new guy—Eugene Roe. He just kinda weirded out; we introduced ourselves to one another, and he kinda spazzed."

"Spazzed how?" Frannie asked, raising one delicate brow.

"Um, like, he froze, and then he said the same thing he first said to me over again, like some sort of weird robot. And he shook my hand for an uncomfortable amount of time. Like… _really_ uncomfortable. And he's been staring at me ever since; he keeps making excuses to talk to me, or touch my hand, or hand me things, or…or to be in the same patient room as me. Now don't get me wrong; the boy is hotter than _hades_ in that uniform, but he's starting to freak me out."

Frannie was staring at her with wide eyes, an elated smile that was also slowly freaking Sam out. "Um…Frannie?"

"Oh my God, Sam!" the receptionist squealed. "You-you found your Soulmate! Oh, wait 'til I tell Bill! Eugene is from his company, you know! He'll be so excited!"

"Whoa, whoa!" Sam cried, waving her hands frantically. " _What_ are you talking about? I did not find a Soulmate!"

Frannie's smile slowly fizzled out as she fixed Sam with a confused stare. "But…he obviously said your words and you obviously said his…so why…why wouldn't he be your Soulmate?" She suddenly gasped. "Unless he _didn't_ say your words!?"

Sam had never admitted that she didn't have Soulmate words on her hip; she didn't need anyone pitying her or labeling her, especially not at work. If she had to die an old maid, then so be it. She'd die alone and happy with her twelve cats and her student debt. Even now, in the face of whatever kind of fucked up revelation this was, Sam was _not_ about to admit she was 'wordless.'

"No, Frannie. He didn't say my words. I know for a fact that he didn't."

"Are you sure?" Frannie demanded.

"I just know, okay? And I couldn't have said his words. I'm not…I'm not capable of that."

Frannie shot her a sympathetic look, and Sam knew that face; she probably assumed that Sam had a Soulmate at some point who had said her words and died, and that she was doomed to spend the rest of her life alone, unless she found someone who was 'wordless.' It was a convenient story that had cropped up about her at the hospital due to her bachelorette status and her unwillingness to date. Sam was glad for the cover, and never bothered to correct it.

"Oh, Sam…I'm so sorry," Frannie whispered, reaching out to gently pat Sam's hand in a comforting gesture. She then brightened, and Sam was amused that the woman flip-flopped through emotions like a dog chasing a squirrel; it was oddly endearing. "Listen, why don't you come out tonight with some of the girls and I? A lot of men from the base are going to be there, including a bunch from Bill's company."

Sam knew about Easy Company; she'd met Bill once or twice when he came to see Frannie, and even one or two of the boys who tagged along with him, but that was about as much as she knew. Now she could add Eugene's name to the list of guys from Easy that she was familiar with, although awkward creepy staring was a bit of a stretch for the word 'familiar.'

Shrugging, Sam figured that going out couldn't hurt; she wasn't exactly a 'party person,' but she liked to get out every now and again, and she enjoyed the company of her coworkers—especially Frannie, who was sweet and endearing enough to make any night out enjoyable. And if she could drink away the weirdness of today, then she was all for it.

"Sure, Fran. Sounds good!"

8888

The eight-hour shift was possibly the longest of Gene's life.

Despite making obvious excuses to be closer to Sam—touching her hand when he handed over a chart, brushing against her as she walked by, helping her with a patient when she didn't need his help—it didn't make being around her any easier. His heart felt like it was being pulled in half, aching to be close to her, desperate to be near her. But she remained oblivious; she even started actively avoiding him towards the end of her shift and his, and he could honestly say he didn't blame her.

If she was his Soulmate, and he wasn't hers, then she probably had no idea where his sudden shift in attitude came from, or the sudden need to be near her and touch her and watch her. It was probably freaking her out, and he mentally slapped himself for being so stupid; he couldn't push himself on her, especially not when she was meant to be with someone else.

Frustrated with himself and the entire fucked up situation, Gene almost missed Frannie frantically flagging him down.

"Hey there, Frannie," he greeted, his smile feeling strained and hollow.

Frannie's lips pinched in sympathy, and she reached over the desk to gently pat his arm. "Oh, Gene, I am so sorry. Sam told me what happened this morning-"

"Wait, she _knows_ I'm her Soulmate?" he demanded.

"Uh, no, Gene. She can't be your Soulmate; word is, she already had a Soulmate and he…well, she _couldn't_ have said your words…" She lifted a brow, suddenly looking unsure. "Or… _did_ she actually say them?"

Unable to speak, Gene merely nodded mutely, throat feeling tight at the revelation that Sam had a Soulmate already; no wonder she hadn't shown any recognition at what he'd said. No wonder she was trying to avoid him. She was taken already. She belonged to another man, who could hold her and kiss her and-

Gene gave himself a shake. Okay, he needed to _not_ think about that. All it was doing was causing more hurt, and the idea of Sam with someone else…well, he didn't want to dwell on _that_ particularly painful gem. "Guess I'm well and utterly screwed, huh?" he muttered, leaning his forehead on his palm. "If she's already got a Soulmate, then I ain't got no chance."

"Wait, no…Gene, she doesn't have a Soulmate _now_."

Gene's head shot up, and he stared at the receptionist with wide eyes. "But you just said-"

"I said ' _had_.' She's completely single, though. I think I've even heard her complain about it. But she never talks about why, so…I mean, who knows if the stories are even true?" Frannie shrugged. "I invited her out to drinks tonight with some of the girls from work and some of the boys for your company. Why don't you come? You can maybe get to know her better and see what her deal is; maybe we're all wrong and she never had a Soulmate. And who knows? I mean…maybe you'll say her words eventually?"

It was a pathetic attempt to make him feel better; they both knew that if you didn't say the words the first time you met the person, then you weren't meant to be. But Gene appreciated the effort. "I 'spose," he hedged, the idea of getting to spend more time with Sam being mighty appealing. Maybe he could find out more about her, about who or where her Soulmate was, and why she'd said his words, but he hadn't said hers. Nodding resolutely, Gene decided that it couldn't hurt.

And maybe it could help stop the ache in his heart every time he looked at her.

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A/N: I was going to make this one long chapter, but I love you all and want you to suffer. Haha, but no, it just seemed a bit long. Don't worry; I've got plenty more where this came from. Ugh, these dorks.


	2. Not so Lonely

A/N: Part 2! This first oneshot is two parts; the others are generally shorter. I am adding in character from The Pacific as well, because since I found out that the guy who played Sledge was the kid in Jurassic Park (Tim) I can't stop laughing and calling him a 'stale cinnamon roll.' He is a perfect little budgie.

This is done purely for fun; I mean absolutely no offense by any of it! I hope no one is offended. I have nothing but the utmost respect for these men.

8888

 **Part 2: Not So Lonely**

Sam self-consciously ran a hand over her shirt, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles as she headed into the bar.

She'd agreed to meet Frannie, the girls, and whatever boys from Easy Company that decided to show up at eight p.m. at the Currahee Bar & Grill just off base. It was a usual hangout for soldiers, especially Easy Company, and Sam hadn't really been there too many times. Every time she went, she always got hit on by some drunk dude who didn't know when to quit (although generally, it was a pretty nice place). So, dressed in dark jeans, a black shirt, and a pair of brown, knee high boots, Sam liked to think that she looked 'dressed to kill,' when in reality she was probably 'dressed to maim,' or 'dressed to give a stern talking to.'

Now she was regretting her decision to come out to the bar and have a good time. Her stomach was in knots at the idea of running into Eugene again; his weird behavior throughout the day hadn't made her uncomfortable so much as it had made her curious, but his intense stare was really starting to throw her off her game. It made her toes curl in a pleasant way she'd never felt before, and _that_ made her nervous.

As she stepped through the door, she was greeted with the usual bar-like atmosphere; men in uniform were lounging around the place, and a lot of women, mostly nurses from either the base hospital or the one Sam worked at outside of town, gravitated to them. Her eyes roved over the unfamiliar faces until she spotted a hand waving frantically at her from the back of the bar. Breathing a sigh of relief, Sam recognized Frannie and Bill, and quickly made a beeline for them.

The couple was surrounded by more members of Easy Company, and a few gals from work, who looked like they were getting somewhat bored of all the drinking; Sam couldn't blame them. The men sometimes forget to entertain the ladies in favor of the legendary tasting beer the bar was famous for serving.

"Hey," she greeted, tucking a stray strand of red hair behind her ear as Frannie made room for her to slide into the booth. The men from Easy who had come out for the night were situated round the booth, and had dragged over more tables and chairs to add to the haphazard solider pile. Sam raised a brow at one of them—George Luz, if she remembered correctly, and she did—who grinned and winked at her like some sort of 1940's playboy.

"I'm so glad you could come out tonight, Sam!" Frannie cried, hugging the woman around the neck. Sam fidgeted slightly, but hugged her back; no one could deny Frannie anything. She was too sweet and adorable. When the receptionist leaned in to whisper to her, though, Sam almost bolted out of her seat. "You knoooow, _Eugene_ came out tonight too. He _never_ goes out with us. But I think he was hoping you'd come; he was looking for you earlier." She motioned to the bar where a familiar head of hair was turned away from her, ordering something from the bartender. A redheaded man was next to him, laughing at whatever the quiet Cajun had mumbled.

Sam immediately felt her cheeks light up with embarrassment. "Um…okay. Look, Frannie, I appreciate whatever you're trying to do, but please just-"

She was cut off by another person sliding into the booth, squishing her against Frannie, and she jerked her head to see a brightly grinning man she was unfamiliar with. He passed her a beer without question, and Sam caught it easily as it slid across the table. Her bewildered look must have been enough for the man to realize that she was confused at his gift.

"Name's Frank Perconte. Nice to meetcha. I've never seen you around here once before. You a friend of Bill and Frannie?"

Sam's mouth worked silently for a second, her eyes traitorously darting to Eugene, who still had his back to her, before they shot back to Frank. "Um…Yeah, I am," she admitted, taking a sip of the beer to avoid having to say anything else.

"I knew it! You got that…" He gestured vaguely, as if looking for the right word. "Nurse-y quality about ya. You work at the hospital with Frannie, right?"

"I do," Sam agreed with a nod. She was already regretting her decision to join Frannie and the boys; really, she should have just gone home, drank a glass of wine, watched some cheesy romance movie that would make her cry, and go to bed. Now she'd have to deal with men and women and smoke and beer, and she was sure that, by the end of the night, she would either punch, smack, or kick someone for getting too fresh.

"Sweet. So, uh, you ever consider datin' a soldier before?"

Sam rolled her eyes; that was _right_ on cue. Before she could answer, someone reached out and smacked Frank on the back of the head, and Sam glanced up to see a man who she recognized as Joe Toye standing just at the edge of the booth behind Frank. Cursing, the Italian man beside her rubbed the back of his head, glaring up at Joe, who smiled grimly.

"Lay off," Joe growled. "She don't need you botherin' her, Frank. Why don't you go pick up on someone at the bar? Maybe you'll get lucky."

Grumbling under his breath about being smacked around by a superior officer, Frank slid out of the booth and tromped off. Joe didn't take his seat, but he did lean against the side of the booth and grin sharply at Sam. "Hey there, Sam," he greeted, and she smiled back.

Sam had met Joe more than once when he'd tagged along with Bill to come see Frannie (it was often Toye and Luz who did so, eager to be fawned over and doted on by the other nurses, who thought they were the bee's knees). Sam liked the man; he was quiet. Nothing wasted in word or deed, and he was a genuinely nice person. He might seem intimidating (when you were _that_ tall, and you scowled _that_ much, it was hard not to), but in reality, he was just a big squishy teddy bear. Well, to her at least. She imagined that anyone who messed with Joe wouldn't be calling him a 'teddy bear' anytime soon.

"Hey Joe, how's it goin'?"

"It's goin', for the most part. How about you?"

Sam grinned, glad to have someone to talk to who wasn't a giggling girl or a man that wanted to hit on her. She decided she might as well stick close to Joe (and probably Luz too, since he was pretty dependable and familiar) so she wouldn't have any trouble tonight.

"I've had a hell of a day, Joe," she muttered, taking another sip of her beer. "It's just been so weird."

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"That her?"

Babe nudged Eugene to turn around, indicating the red-haired woman who had slid into the booth next to Frannie. When Eugene caught sight of her, he felt like all the wind had been knocked out of him. He'd only ever seen her in scrubs, but good God _damn_ did she look amazing in those knee high boots and that low cut shirt. He was suddenly aware of all the male attention she would probably be garnering, especially when he saw Perconte slide into the booth beside her and hand her a drink.

"Yep," Gene muttered, taking a sip of his beer to keep himself from striding over and pulling his fellow solider out of his seat.

"Jesus Christ, Gene. You are one lucky son of a bitch."

Gene was inclined to agree with Heffron; to him, Sam was the most beautiful woman in the world, but he'd be damned if she knew it. She looked so small and uncomfortable, sitting hunched over with her fingers tapping impatiently on her beer. He watched Toye save her from Perconte, silently sending the man a prayer of thanks, and sighed.

Babe nudged him lightly with his shoulder. "I'm real sorry, man. This must be hell." He paused, before he added: "So, she really said your words, but you didn't say hers?"

Babe, Bill, Joe Toye, George Luz and a few others in the company had been apprised of his situation by none other than Frannie. Of _course_ she told Bill, who told just about everybody-fucking-else, and now everyone knew; even Frank, though it hadn't stopped him from flirting. He didn't mean anything by it, Gene knew. It was just how he was.

Gene shrugged. "S'what it looks like," he admitted, shoulders sagging slightly. "I just don't understand it. She said my words; she didn't even know it! She just…she just walked off. Like it never happened." He groaned, letting his head drop into his free hand. "The hell am I 'sposed to do, Heffron?"

"Okay," Babe began. "First of all, it's 'Babe.' And second of all, why don't you just go and talk to her, Gene? What could it hurt? Ask her about herself; maybe you can find out what the fuck happened after she said your words. For all you know, you said hers but she just has one hell of a poker face."

Gene shook his head. "I dunno, Heffron…"

"It's ' _Babe_ ,' ya lovesick idiot." And Gene yelped and nearly spilled his beer as Heffron grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the company, towards Sam. Eugene tried very hard to break away (okay, maybe he made a feeble attempt that would've had even him laughing at how pathetic it was), and took a deep breath as they made it over to the table to a chorus of "'Ey! Doc, Babe, welcome back!" from the boys.

Gene smiled timidly; he wasn't really used to social interaction, and even before this, he didn't get out all that much. But here he was, beer in hand, standing next to Joe Toye (who had subtly moved away from Sam and was nudging him to stand beside her) and feeling incredibly uncomfortable. He mentally groaned when Sam lifted her eyes—they were the bluest things he'd ever seen—and smiled at him in a way that made his stomach do summersaults.

"Hey, Eugene. Glad to see you out and about." Her gaze subtly raked over him, and he felt his cheeks flush.

"Hey yo'self, Samantha. It's good to see you…uh…outside of work?" God, he was so bad at this. He'd never had any practice talking to women, and he was so damn awkward. He tried to think of something to say, anything to break the ice and keep her interested, but came up empty. He heard a 'tsk' from his left, and suddenly, Babe was leaning over the back of the booth between Frannie and Sam, eagerly reaching out to shake Sam's hand.

"Hi there!" he greeted, charming as always and Gene cursed himself for not being as smooth. "I'm Edward Heffron. Everyone calls me Babe." He jerked a thumb at Gene. "Except this idiot, who can't seem to get it through his thick skull that I prefer my nickname to my real name."

Gene watched Sam giggle softly, taking Heffron's offered hand and giving it a shake. It was nothing like the awkward handshake he'd given her that morning; the one that had gone on _way_ too long to be comfortable.

"So listen, Sam," Babe whispered, leaning forward. "I know this is gonna sound weird, but Gene there is a really good dancer. But unfortunately, he's a little shy. He told me he'd like to ask you, but I don't think he's gonna get the nerve to do it. Why don't you ask him to dance? I'm sure he'd love it."

Gene didn't hear what Babe said to her, but suddenly Sam was looking straight at him, one brow raised and a curious look on her face. He felt his cheeks heat up, and was about to stutter out a question when she suddenly grinned at him and all the breath and thought left his body. He struggled to answer her when she finally asked:

"Hey, Gene, wanna dance?"

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The dancing wasn't as awkward as Sam imagined it was going to be.

After Babe had whispered in her ear, she'd thrown caution to the wind and decided what the hell; she hadn't had any real fun in a long time, and maybe there _was_ a chance Eugene was interested in her and she could get a couple of nice nights out of a short relationship. Not that she used people for sex, but sometimes a girl had needs, and her self-imposed exile from the dating world made it hard to fulfill those needs.

Besides, Gene was cute, and incredibly hot in his uniform; she felt almost giddy as he tentatively offered her his arm and they made their way onto the dance floor. She didn't date soldiers (as a rule; it just made more room for heartbreak and potential breakups if they got transferred), but maybe she'd make an exception. And heck, maybe Eugene didn't have words either, and she might've found a possible match to spend her 'not-destined-for-anyone-days-of-endless-loneliness' with.

Gene gently took her hand, and she felt his other one curl around her waist. He pulled her close, but kept a respectable distance between them as they swayed to the song—it was some catchy old time tune that she was sure had been popular in the 1940's—and Sam decided that this was actually pretty nice.

Until he started asking her questions, of course.

"So, uh…about today," Gene started, hedging slightly and sounding unsure. Sam rose a curious brow, urging him to continue with a look. "I know it ain't none of my business but…uh…when we shook hands this morning…did anything seem a little…strange to you?"

"You mean besides the fact that you shook my hand for like, five minutes?" Sam asked, confused by the question.

"Uh, yeah."

His blush was adorable, but Sam was more concerned about the oddness of his questions. "No, Eugene. Nothing seemed amiss. Or weird. Except your greeting me twice like some sort of forgetful robot. But I'll let it slide. First impressions aren't always everything. Besides, I had a granola bar hanging out of my mouth, so I'm sure I didn't make the best impression either."

"No, no! You were perfect!" he said hurriedly, and Sam gave a start. "I mean…no, you're not perfect, wait…I mean, you're perfect and I'm…" He sighed. "I'm an idiot…your impression was good. I, uh, I was really glad to finally get to meet you."

"Sure," Same replied, now feeling as though maybe she shouldn't have asked him to dance. Or come out to the bar. But damn it if he wasn't super cute, getting all flustered. Still, this was getting odd. "So…what was all the staring about today at the hospital? It was…er…kinda…creepy." She winced; she hadn't meant to admit that, but he had been creeping on her, and the way he looked at her was so intense that it made her wonder what he was seeing. "I mean, not that _you're_ creepy. I just…You never even _looked_ at me before today. So what was up?"

Gene shrugged, his eyes darting everywhere but her face, not eager to meet her gaze. Sam found that a little odd, but made no mention of it. He seemed to want to ignore her question, so she decided that, for the moment, she'd let it drop. It wasn't important; if he did it again, she might confront him (no one creepy stared at Sam Branigan two days in a row and got away with it, thank you). She was content to sway and dance with him, enjoying the closeness of another body that she hadn't let herself enjoy for a long, long time.

Finally, comfortable with him, she scooted closer, and felt him stiffen against her. Her eyes darted up to his blushing face, and she wondered if she'd pushed a little too far for the soft-spoken doctor-in-training, when his arm suddenly tightened on her back and he was holding her softly to his chest, bodies flush against one another as they swayed to the music. She squeaked in surprise, eyes wide as she gazed up at him, wondering what he was thinking.

Gene was now meeting her eyes, blow for blow, and the intense look from earlier in the day was back. Sam felt butterflies flutter in her stomach as he inched closer, face merely inches from her own. She waited with baited breath, eagerly anticipating what was coming next, when Eugene suddenly spoke, breath fanning over her lips.

"Do you have a Soulmate?"

That…was _not_ what she was expecting.

Sam blanched, her face falling slightly as she stared at him. His look was so earnest, so honest and pleading that it broke her heart. She should have known that none of this would be 'no-strings-attached.' She'd heard that question before, and it usually was followed up with 'Neither do I, so why don't we date for a while and have some fun?' Sam was not about to set herself up for that bullshit again, and she quickly stepped away from Eugene, ignoring the hurt that flashed across his face. If he'd left the 's' word out of things, she could've probably enjoyed herself, but nothing good ever came of playing around with that.

"Sorry, Gene. I-I don't think this is a good idea." She scratched her head, shrugging one shoulder. "I don't have a Soulmate. I _can't_ have a Soulmate. So, uh, it's best if we just drop it." She glanced around hurriedly, anywhere but at Gene, and took another step back just to be sure. "Um…I'm just gonna head home. See you at work on Monday!"

Before he could call her back and before her resolve could weaken, Sam darted around Eugene and out the door, missing the way his face crumpled with pain. She needed to get out of there, needed to leave as soon as possible before she threw caution to the wind for a few days of fun. She didn't need a lifetime of heartache just because she was stupid and lonely.

She heard feet running after her and walked faster, before a hand gently grabbed her shoulder, making her pause.

"Sam?"

It was Frannie, and Sam knew the woman had probably watched the whole exchange. She stopped mid-stride, already digging for her car keys in her purse, eager to get going. "Sorry, Fran. I didn't mean to be a wet blanket. I just need to get home; I'm really tired and I've had a long day. This scene isn't for me, anyway."

"Sam, I saw you and Gene on the dance floor. You two looked so wonderful together; why don't you give him a chance? I mean…I mean if you could?" Frannie pleaded, eyes darting back to the door of the bar where Bill, Joe Toye, Babe and Luz stood, watching quietly. Sam didn't notice the men, too focused on getting the hell out of there.

"No, Frannie," she replied, shaking her head and still digging. "I can't."

"But why, Sam? You _could_ give him a chance! I saw the way you two looked at each other. Why do you have to be alone? Is it because your Soulmate-"

"I don't _have_ a fucking Soulmate, Frannie!" Sam shouted, fingers stilling in her purse. She felt angry tears welling in her eyes, and cursed herself and the stupid, stupid universe for screwing everything up in one easy second. "I don't have any fucking _words_! I'm 'wordless!' I'm blank! There is _no one_ out there meant for me, and I'm not fucking meant for anyone else! So if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go home, get insanely drunk, and try to forget how much the God damned universe fucking hates me, okay?!"

Without waiting for a response, Sam took off towards her car, jumping in and taking off before Frannie could stop her. She needed to get home.

She needed to drink until she couldn't remember who 'Eugene _Fucking_ Roe' was anymore.

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Frannie stared at the place Sam had been moments before, mouth open and eyes wide.

She heard Joe, George, Babe and Bill crunch over the gravel behind her, and felt Bill gently reach out to pull her against his side. "Jesus fucking Christ," Babe murmured, running a hand through his hair. "I mean, I figured something was wrong when Gene didn't say her words back to her but…but that? I was not anticipating _that_."

"I know, right?" George muttered, looking as shocked as Frannie felt.

Suddenly though, it all clicked into place, and Frannie squealed excitedly, grabbing Bill around the neck. He looked incredibly confused, and maybe a little frightened for her sanity.

"Fran, what-?"

"Don't you _get_ it, Bill? Gene couldn't say her words back to her because she doesn't _have_ words, but she said _his_ words! That means they really _are_ Soulmates! There's no one down the line to come sweeping her off her feet and away from Gene; they can be together now without having to worry about it!"

"Holy shit!" George cried, his grin threatening to overrun his face. "That's right! Gene is _definitely_ her Soulmate, but she just didn't have words for him to _say_! Oh my God, we have to tell him!"

Babe was smiling like that cat that caught the canary. "What the hell are we waiting for? Let's go tell Gene!"

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Gene stared angrily at the beer on the table, swirling the dark amber liquid around in his glass with a morose expression.

The men around him could most certainly tell something was up; many of them knew about his issue, so he knew they were leaving him alone on purpose. Not a single one of them hadn't seen that little spectacle out on the dance floor. Gene didn't care what they thought, though; the only thing that mattered was the fact that his Soulmate had just run out on him and shattered his heart in the same breath.

He would have to find a way to get over her, but even as he thought it, he knew it would be impossible. Maybe he could dedicate his life to helping her, making her life easier. Once he became a doctor, maybe he could help her become head nurse or something or…His thoughts trailed away as a sigh escaped his lips.

He really had no fucking idea what to do.

"Gene!"

Gene was nearly tackled into the booth as Babe slammed into him, Bill, George, Joe and Frannie close behind. They all had giddy, excited looks on their faces, and Gene hated them for it, and then hated himself for thinking such terrible thoughts about people he considered friends. "What?" he demanded, trying very hard not to sound as annoyed as he felt.

"Listen, Gene…We have something to tell you."

The more the people around him talked, the more his eyes widened, and suddenly everything clicked into place. He hadn't said Sam's words because she didn't have any, but she had said his. She was tied to _no one_ , and he was tied to _her_. That meant that they could be together! Well, maybe the universe didn't hate him as much as he thought! He just…had to convince her that what he'd just discovered was true first. "Hold on," he said quietly, pausing his friends mid-chatter. "So she won't let herself be with someone 'cuz she's afraid they'll leave her for their Soulmate…and she just _told_ you that?"

"She sort of yelled it, really," Frannie admitted, looking sheepish. "She said she was…going to go get drunk at home."

Gene stood up from the bar suddenly determined and held his hand out to Babe for the keys to his truck. "Keys. Frannie, where does she live?" The receptionist looked surprised, but smiled eagerly as she rattled off an address. Gene was only minimally familiar with the area, but he would spend all damn night looking for her home if he had to. "Good." He glanced at Babe. "I'm borrowin' your truck." The red head shrugged and agreed, knowing he could get a ride from any of the other guys easily.

"Fine, Gene." He gave the medic a shrug, grin wide. "Go get 'er, tiger!"

888

Sam didn't know if she had enough wine in her house to get drunk enough to forget that night, but she sure as hell was gonna try and find out.

Cuddled up on her couch, bowl of cheetohs in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, she turned off the lights and flipped on the cheesy Soulmate romance she was planning on watching earlier in the day.

She was halfway through her third cup of wine and feeling pleasantly tingly, when the doorbell suddenly rang and her head snapped up to stare at the door. Okay…it was what, eleven o'clock at night? Who would be ringing her doorbell at this time of night?

Setting down her wine and placing the bowl on the low table in front of her. Sam uncurled herself from her blanket and tip-toed to the door. She always kept a bat right beside the door in case whoever was outside was someone she wasn't fond of, and she hefted it into her hands and lifted it into the 'ready' position, before reaching out and swinging the door inward and open.

"Gene?!" she gasped, faltering and nearly dropping the bat as the sheepish looking medic waved awkwardly at her from the other side of the door. "What…" She blinked, before quickly hiding the bat behind her back and clearing her throat. "Ehm, what are _you_ doing here?"

"Can we…talk?" he asked softly, and had he not looked so much like an _actual_ kicked puppy, Sam would have said no. Instead, she grudgingly moved aside so he could come in, keeping the bat in her hands just in case; if things went south, she might need to knock _herself_ out to save her from doing something stupid.

The romance movie was still playing in the background, and Sam quickly grabbed the clicker and turned it off, face flushed with embarrassment. She would have tried to hide the miserable meal of wine and cheetohs, but she was sure he'd already seen them, and quite frankly, she was planning to pick up where she left off as soon as he was gone.

Gene was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, so Sam skirted around him to face him, concerned by the look he was shooting her. "Gene? What do you need?" She suddenly backed up, brandishing the bat. "You aren't going to suddenly go _Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ on me, are you?"

The corners of his lips quirked, and he shook his head. "No, no, nothin' like that. I just…" He took a deep breath, and seemed to come to terms with something. In the next instant, he'd reached down and pulled his pants just slightly down his right hip, where Sam knew his words were going to be.

Not expecting that in the _least_ , Sam screeched, throwing her hands in the air. The bat fell to the floor with a loud clatter, and she quickly covered her eyes, shrieking: "What the fuck are you doing, Eugene!?"

She felt a gentle hand grab her own, and he tugged her hands away from her face. "No, Sam! Look! Just look at the words!"

"Gene, those are for your Soulmate! I can't! I _can't_ look at them!"

With a sound of frustration, Gene whipped her hands from her eyes and shouted: "You _are_ my Soulmate!"

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His breath was coming out in ragged gasps as he stood there in her living room, staring down at her shocked expression.

Her breathing quickened, and suddenly she was gasping for air, as though she was having some sort of attack. Alarmed, Eugene forgot about trying to show her the words and quickly clasped her hands in his, moving her towards the couch and gently sitting her down. "Breathe, chére," he murmured, running a hand over her hair; it was softer than it looked, and he had to make a concerted effort to focus on helping her calm down, almost too enthralled by being able to touch her and being near her. He whispered soothing nonsense words in French, and slowly, her breathing evened out as she lifted tentative, watery eyes to look at him.

" _Don't_ say things like that," she whispered softly. "You have…you have _no_ idea. Don't you _dare_ ever say something like that to me!"

"I'll say it again, a thousand times if I have to. It's _true_ ," he murmured, taking her hands in his again and squeezing, holding tight when she would have pulled away. "Sam. You said my words. The day we met, you said 'em, clear as day. I ain't stupid or deaf. Just look." He pulled the edge of his pants down again, not concerned about anything but getting her to believe him, and he watched her eyes haltingly lower to the quicksilver words on his hip. He heard her gasp, felt her hands pull away from his, and he watched her steadily as her fingers reached out to touch him.

The second they made contact with his flesh, an electric shock shot straight up his spine, and he groaned, grabbing her hand and quickly pulling it away from his skin. Sam's eyes darted up to him quickly, fear and worry that she'd done something wrong etched into her face. "You're my Soulmate," Gene said again, squeezing her fingers. "You don't have words, Sam, I know that-" He watched her bite her lip, looking quickly away from him, but he reached out and lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "-But _I_ do. An' you said them. You spoke my words, Sam. I never thought…I mean, I knew someone was out there for me, but I never 'magined it would be like this. And I almost missed you, all 'cause you were runnin' away from this. You thought no one could love you, no one was out there for you…'cuz you ain't got no words. But you're _wrong_ , Sam."

He used the hold he had on her chin to gently pull her closer, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her against him. He felt her stiffen slightly, but then she melted against his body, arms locking themselves around his neck as he pulled her half into his lap. "You got words, Sam. They're _my_ words. And they're _your_ words now. And if I gotta spend the rest of our lives convincin' you of that, well…" His fingers danced along her jaw, lifting her face towards him, and he leaned in, capturing her lips with his own.

It was a feeling that was indescribable; he felt stars explode behind his eyes and in his stomach and everything seemed to tilt into place and feel _right_ for the first time in his entire life. All of this time, he'd been without this, without _her_ , and he had no idea how he'd survived that long.

 _This_. This was what finding your Soulmate was _supposed_ to feel like.

He heard her whimper softly as he deepened the kiss, felt her arms tighten around his neck as she molded herself to him; they fit perfectly, like two lost pieces of a puzzle. Slowly, Gene pulled away, a smile on his face as he stared down into Sam's hazy blue eyes, and he watched the answering grin tug at her own lips, before he leaned down and nipped them gently.

"…I don't mind spendin' the rest of my life tryin'."


	3. You, Me & Everyone Else

A/N: Here's the third drabble. I love these nerds. They're ruining me.

Inspired by the prompt: "Don't be mad, but _. "

Also, MommaBabe gives me life.

This is done purely for fun; I mean absolutely no offense by any of it! I hope no one is offended. I have nothing but the utmost respect for these men.

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 **Part 3: You, Me & Everyone Else**

It had been a few weeks since Gene and Sam had solved the 'Soulmate' issue that was between them, and Sam still didn't quite believe it was real.

She'd always been resigned to the fact that she'd either be alone for the rest of her life, or get lucky and find someone like her who had no words to hold them down. This…thing with Gene, whatever it was—fate, the universe throwing her a bone, she didn't know—was still hard to accept, but every time he wrapped her in his arms, she found it a little easier to believe.

Now, as she strode around her apartment, desperately trying to figure out what the hell to wear for dinner with Gene's roommate, Babe, she was wondering if maybe she wasn't cut out for this whole 'relationship' thing.

Gene was sitting on the couch, lazily flipping through channels as he munched on one of her granola bars—where the fuck did he get that? She thought she hid those from him—and looking very unconcerned with his Soulmate's frantic dashing from room to room. "Calm down," he drawled when she passed in front of the TV for the fifth time, hands grabbing at her hair. "It's just Babe. Ya already met him and he likes ya. I think you're blowin' this all out of proportion."

"And I think you're _way_ to calm about this, Gene. I can't wait 'til you meet my mother so I can get some sweet, sweet revenge."

Gene swallowed his bite of granola and grinned. "I think you like me too much to wanna subject me to that kind of torture."

"Oh ho ho, no way, mister. I will enjoy every second of watching you squirm under my ma's 'you're-not-good-enough' glare."

"You are cruel and unusual."

"No, _you're_ unusual," Sam grouched back from her bedroom, before she reappeared holding a blue blouse and a black flutter top. "Okay. Be honest. What the hell am I supposed to wear to something like this? Babe is like… _really_ important to you…I feel like I'm meeting your boyfriend or something."

Gene actually honest-to-God choked on his granola bar, and Sam couldn't stop the wicked smile that curled over her face as he glared at her. " _Co faire_ …? Ugh, look, Sam, it's jus' Babe. He's my friend and a fellow soldier, and he likes you already. You've met him, he's met you, and there's no reason to be so nervous." He finally stood from the couch, throwing down the clicker and gently pulling the black top from her hands. "But if it's such a big deal that you get my opinion, then I think you should wear this one. You'll look good in anythin', really, but that one will blow his damned mind."

Sam eyed Gene dubiously, taking the top back from him with a huff. "Why would I want to do that? I already have you, after all." She squeaked as Gene grabbed her around the middle, lifting her off her feet with an eager kiss.

"True, you sho' do."

"Now that we have that established…Put me down, you nerd, or we'll be late."

Gene hummed, as if he was actually considering her demand. "But what if I don' wanna?" he asked mischievously, and Sam sighed dramatically, letting her entire body go slack and her forehead bump into Gene's as she tried to slip from his arms. He nearly dropped her in surprise, but he'd gotten wise to her ways of wriggling away from him when he was being affectionate over the past few weeks, and he didn't let her go. "That ain't gonna work. I'm onto you an' yo' tricks, Sam," he said with a grin, which turned into a laugh when she pouted at him in annoyance.

Gene was a lot more than the quiet doctor-in-training that Sam had come to know; he was kind, compassionate, sweet, and he actually had a fun loving side that honest-to-God surprised Sam the first time he'd acted playful around her. She doubted other people had been privy to that particular part of Gene, and she was a little awed and amused that he trusted her enough and was comfortable enough to show that side of himself to her so soon (she was his Soulmate, so she supposed it made sense).

She wanted to demand he put her down—she still had to make herself look somewhat presentable for their dinner—but he silenced her protest with a kiss, and Sam didn't think she could argue with that.

"Babe won' mind if we're a lil' late," Gene drawled easily, arms tightening around her waist and slowly walking backwards to the couch.

So this whole 'Soulmate' thing was new to her. And damn it, if she didn't enjoy every second of it.

8888

'A lil' late,' as Gene had said, was a bit of an understatement.

Neither he nor Sam had been paying much attention to the time, if he was honest. He figured Babe probably wouldn't care if they were an _hour_ off schedule, but knowing his roommate, the soldier from Philly might _actually_ throw a fit about it. He just hoped he wouldn't scare Sam off; she was already fretting about the dinner enough as it was, and she'd smoothed her shirt and skirt down enough times that he was certain there wasn't a single wrinkle in it.

He reached over and grabbed her hand firmly in his to stop her from doing it again as they pulled onto the road leading to his and Babe's shared home. "You look beautiful, chére. Don' you worry none. It's jus' gon' be me, you, and Babe. Nothin' too hard to handle."

Sam shot him a grateful smile; he gripped her hand tighter when she looked at him. It still made him a little weak in the knees. "Sorry," she admitted sheepishly. "I just…this is a big deal to me, okay? It's second to having dinner with your family and-" She paused as she looked back down the road ahead, narrowing her eyes slightly. "-Gene. Didn't you…I thought you said it was just gonna be me, you and Babe?"

"I did," he agreed easily, before he caught sight of what she was looking at and swore under his breath in French.

The driveway of his home had three cars parked in it, and he knew Babe only had one truck. Plus, his should make two cars total, not four altogether; the fact that the other two cars were familiar to him made him curse even more as they pulled up to the curb and parked. As he turned his car off, he sat back against the seat and sighed. "I hate my job," he muttered.

"Which job?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow. "The one at the hospital, or the one…?" She motioned vaguely to the cars in his driveway, and Gene grumbled under his breath.

"That one, yeah. Don't be mad but…it ain't gonna be just us. Why couldn't they jus' leave us alone for one night? Jus' one. It's not too much to ask, is it?" He turned and fixed Sam with what he hoped was a pitiful look. "How about we go back to your place and pretend we never left? I'd rather do that than deal with…whatever the hell is waitin' on us in there." He turned the pout on full force, leaning over slightly. "Please?"

Sam laughed and swatted playfully at his arm. "Ohhhh no you don't," she chirped, unbuckling her seatbelt and opening the door. "I spent _way_ too long trying to make myself look presentable after you distracted me. I am not letting all that work go to waste."

Gene had to grin at her remark; yeah, he'd probably done a pretty good job of _distracting_ her, to be sure. Between continually annoying her with kisses while she was trying to put on what little makeup she wore, and sneaking a hand under the back of her shirt (he made her yelp and smear lipstick across her cheek), he made damn sure Sam found it almost too difficult to leave the house. He honestly would have been okay with staying home, but he _had_ promised Babe they'd be there, and his friend was excited to get to know Sam officially. So Gene had torn himself away from her, combed his hair, and let her finish getting ready in peace.

Now that he'd pulled up and saw how many damn cars were in his driveway, he was thinking that he should have tried harder to distract her.

Sighing, he unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the car, hurrying to the other side to help Sam the rest of the way out. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged, sliding his arm around her waist. "You look beautiful," he remarked, grinning as she blushed prettily in the moonlight. "I don' think I told ya that."

"No, it never hurts to hear. I'm not too used to skirts, but I figure I should at least make an effort to look like something more than a sexy lump of scrubs and granola bars."

"You always look better than a lump a' scrubs. But I think you might be in a two-way-tie with granola bars."

"Ha, ha. I hate you."

"Noooo ya don'."

Sam poked his side and he laughed as they made it to the door, and Gene could hear the sound of familiar voices just beyond, laughing and carrying on. Mentally, he cringed; he had hoped it would be a nice, simple dinner for Sam to really get to know his good friend and then they could go home and do whatever the hell they wanted for the rest of the evening (A movie, the couch, a blanket, maybe snuggling?). Unfortunately, it didn't seem like Gene was going to get his wish.

He silently said a prayer for his poor soul as he pushed open the door and they stepped inside.

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Sam had been expecting a nice dinner. She was nervous as all hell, but she figured if it was just Babe, she could probably manage just fine.

It was, however, not ' _just_ Babe.'

Sam had visited Gene's house once or twice, pretty much when Babe wasn't home, of course, but for the most part he stayed at her house (it was private, and they didn't have to worry about anyone 'annoying the shit out of them' as Gene was adamant Babe would do), so she was a little surprised his home could hold so many people.

She felt Gene's arm tighten around her, and she could tell he was annoyed. If she could manage, she'd just roll with it, so she could at least keep his mood light and fluffy; he had a tendency to get broody when something bothered him, and broody Gene could only be tempted back to the land of normalcy with lots of chocolate, wine, and surprisingly, cheetohs. Sam was not willing to share her stash ( _especially_ her chocolate; he was like a fucking squirrel with that, and she kept finding wrappers in really odd places in her house), so she would keep him 'un-broody' for as long as she could.

Frannie and Bill were there, and they'd dragged along George Luz, Joe Toye, Skip Muck, Buck Compton, Alex Penkala and Donald Malarkey. Sam was familiar with Joe, Bill, George and Frannie, but the other men she wasn't too well acquainted with; she'd heard names mentioned occasionally, but she'd never met them face to face.

Frannie was, of course, the first to greet her and immediately whisked her away from Gene's side. Sam ignored the way he grumbled in French, allowing herself to be led into the kitchen.

"Sam!" Frannie greeted, leaning in and giving her a fitful hug. "You guys are late. We were waiting for you." She wiggled her eyebrows in a look that Sam was sure she'd borrowed from Bill. "A whole _hour_ , huh?" She leaned in and whispered: "I see the honeymoon phase hasn't worn off yet."

Sam blushed, choking on her words and shaking her head, trying very hard not to look over at Gene, who had been greeted by Bill and Joe with a hearty slap on the back that nearly had him pitching face forward into the carpeted floor. "Frannie," Sam hissed, before she was swept into another unexpected hug by Gene's roommate, Babe and Frannie abandoned her to his clutches. Sam recognized him from the bar, but she still stiffened at the contact, awkwardly patting his back. He held her at arm's length and grinned.

"Thank you so God damn much for taking this asshole off my hands."

She heard a muttered " _Hey_!" from Gene in the living room behind her, but ignored him in favor of Babe. "Uh…You're welcome?"

"He never appreciates all the effort I put into keeping him alive. If it weren't for me, he'd never eat a normal meal. He thinks that the four basic food groups are microwaved, canned, frozen and pre-packaged. Come on, come on. You guys were late, but I bet ya haven't eaten dinner yet. You like spaghetti?" He didn't wait for Sam to answer before he was grabbing a plate and handing it to her. "'Course ya do. Here."

He heaped a large pile of noodles on her plate, leading her down the line at the stove and cabinets, piling on garlic bread and some salad to the side. Sam was helpless to refuse, especially when Babe shot her the brightest, sweetest look she'd ever seen. "My ma taught me to cook, so I made all this for tonight. None of these bums helped at all!" He said that last part a little louder, and the men in the living room raised their respective drinks with a cheer. Babe shook his head. "Fucking ingrates. Anyway, Sam, eat! Tell me whatcha think."

"Um…" Sam looked down at her plate, before Babe brightened again and seemed to remember.

"Oh, shit. Here." He turned and pulled open a drawer, handing her a fork. "You want somethin' to drink? Come on, siddown at the table. You an' I got some talkin' to do about your intentions towards Gene."

Sam laughed quietly, startled by his humor and took a seat at the table, setting her plate down as Babe rummaged in the fridge. "Ya want a beer? Lemonade? Water?"

"Lemonade, if you don't mind."

Babe nodded and sat down beside her a few moments later with a large glass of lemonade, sliding it towards her. The chair on her other side scraped along the floor, and George Luz plopped into it, grinning widely at Sam, who quickly stuffed a forkful of spaghetti in her mouth to avoid an awkward conversation.

The moment she bit down, however, she was surprised at how amazingly good the food was, and her eyes widened as she stared at her plate. Babe was leaning forward eagerly, anticipating her reaction as Sam slowly lifted her gaze towards him. "Holy fuckin' shit, Babe. Marry me," she muttered, and he nearly fell out of his chair with laughter, George doing the same as Sam stuffed another bite into her mouth.

"No seriously," she muttered, chewing happily. "This is legit the best spaghetti I've ever had. Eugene should have officially introduced us earlier. I guess he didn't because he was afraid your culinary skills might force me to run off with you."

"I _really_ like this girl," Luz remarked, taking a swig of his beer. "You fit right in with the rest of us. Gene hit the jackpot with you."

Sam leveled him with a flat look, chewing more spaghetti. God bless Babe Heffron's mother's foresight for teaching her child to cook.

"I'm glad ya like it, Sam, honest," Babe remarked, leaning forward on the table. "No one ever 'preciates me. Maybe now that you and Gene are together, he can bring ya around more often for food. You're probably a lot like him, huh? You don't cook much and probably only eat out of a microwave."

"Hey now. I eat granola bars too. You can't microwave those."

Babe rolled his eyes. "Ten bucks says some idiot has tried, though. Anyway, sorry 'bout all the guys bein' here. It really was gonna be you and Gene and me. But they just sorta…I'm gonna be honest and say that I think they fuckin' bugged our house and that's how they found out about this." He glared at George across the table, but the wise-cracking soldier just grinned and saluted him with his beer. "Yeah, you asshole."

"Guilty as charged."

"I fuckin' hate this company."

"You love us, and don't ever deny it."

Sam was looking between the two, an amused smile on her face as she continued to work her way through her plate. "Babe," she muttered. "If you ever try to move away or leave, or try to transfer out of Easy, so help me I will hunt you down and drag you back. Now that I've tasted your food, there is no _way_ I'm letting you get away."

George cackled and Babe just grinned. "Have it your way, Sam," he agreed easily. "Consider me your personal chef for the rest of your life."

"Yessss. Excellent!"

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Gene was dying to know what the hell was so funny in the kitchen. And he was hungry, damn it.

But he'd practically been assaulted by the men who were waiting for them in the living room, and he resigned himself to sitting awkwardly on his own couch between Penkala and Muck. They'd passed him a beer, and he'd immediately taken a sip; Christ, he felt like he actually _was_ introducing Sam to his family. At least she seemed to have gotten comfortable; he could just see her around the corner of the wall that separated the kitchen and the living room, talking and laughing with Babe and Luz and, thankfully, getting a plate full of food in the process.

"Sorry we intruded on your dinner, Gene," Frannie told him, sitting in the armchair across from the couch. Bill was sitting on the arm of the chair, an unrepentant grin on his face that made Frannie's words fall almost flat. "Bill and Joe caught wind of it, and they wanted to invite the whole company, but I firmly told them no and put my foot down."

"And when Frannie says no," Buck continued for her, grinning from his own place on the floor where he was leaning against the wall beside Malarkey. "She means no. She didn't want to overwhelm you or your lovely lady friend. Congrats, by the way, doc! I'm really happy for ya!"

"Hear, hear!" Muck crowed, raising his beer and taking a swig. "You are one lucky bastard, ya know that? An Irishwoman _and_ a nurse? _Quite_ the combination, I'd say."

"How do ya know she's Irish?" Gene asked, raising a brow and leaning forward on his knees.

"Oh, come on," Malarkey quipped. "Her last name is 'Branigan,' she's got red-hair, and she looks like she'd probably punch like the devil. She's definitely Irish."

"No doubt," Joe agreed, raising his beer.

Gene snorted, taking a drink of his beer and peeking over at the kitchen; whatever Sam had said had nearly caused George and Babe to fall out of their chairs with laughter. He couldn't help the smile that curled over his lips; he _knew_ they would love her. He just hadn't intended to introduce her to his 'military family' so soon.

As he watched, she finished what food was left on her plate (she was a fast eater and _loved_ food, he'd discovered, especially if it didn't require microwaving) and Babe cleared her dishes for her. She caught his eye and grinned, lifting her lemonade cup. She disappeared around the corner towards the stove, and when she reappeared, she was carrying another plate full of food. She brought it and her lemonade with her as she headed towards the living room, following by Luz. She stood timidly near the corner of the kitchen, fingers tightly gripping the plate and cup. Gene could tell she was a little uncomfortable with so many people; she'd been the same way at the bar. He knew very well that crowds made her a little jumpy.

Yet another reason he'd been praying it would have been only Babe when they'd arrived.

Penkala immediately got up from his seat, motioning for Sam to take it. When she shook her head and politely refused, he insisted.

"Really, I'm okay Alex." George must have filled her in on the who was who; she knew names, but she hadn't known faces too well before today. Gene mentally thanked Luz for helping out. "You keep your seat. I can stand."

"Nonsense!" Penkala snorted, gently taking her elbow and guiding her to sit. She did so, but only on the edge of the couch, looking highly uncomfortable. Gene immediately reached out and drew her against his side, and she squeaked as their hips and shoulders bumped. She handed over the plate of food to him, and he took it eagerly, leaning against her as he ate.

"And call me 'Penk.' Only my mother calls me 'Alex.'"

"Yep!" Skip agreed. "And you can call me Skip. Doc here only ever uses our last names; he won't use any nicknames, no matter how hard we try to force him. He is one stubborn little French son of a bitch."

"Rude," Gene mumbled around a mouthful of spaghetti, but smiled nonetheless as he took a drink of his beer, feeling Sam begin to relax against his side. He didn't want her to be uncomfortable, and he gently rubbed her arm with the back of his hand.

"I'm Buck," Buck introduced from where he sat, and clambered to his feet to walk over and shake Sam's hand. "That red-head over there is Don. You already know Joe-" Toye nodded at her with a faint smile. "And o'course, Bill and Frannie. Sorry we intruded on your dinner date with Babe and Gene."

Babe shouted a "You never apologized to _me_!" loud enough from the kitchen that they all heard, but Buck ignored him.

"We were eager to see our favorite doc and meet his Soulmate properly. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up."

"Speak for yourself," Luz remarked. "I came for the free beer."

Gene mentally sighed and buckled down for a long night; he knew the men would never let them leave early. He might as well get comfortable. But with Sam sitting at his side, the tension easing out of her as she laughed at Luz's jokes and the men's good natured ribbing, he decided that it really wasn't that bad after all.


	4. Cartwheels

A/N: Part 4! I enjoy writing the modern stuff; it's my jam, man. I hope you all enjoy! Thanks for the reviews!

Inspired by the prompt: "You, me, PJ's, pizza, bed. The PJ's are optional." And because I wanted to quote Parks & Rec.

This is done purely for fun; I mean absolutely no offense by any of it! I hope no one is offended. I have nothing but the utmost respect for these men.

8888

 **Part 4: Cartwheels**

Sam was sick.

She was sick, and she was not going to fucking admit it.

But when she woke up that morning with a stuffy nose, a stuffy head, and an achy body, she decided that maybe, yeah, okay, she was a _little_ sick.

But she still wouldn't admit it. Not to Gene, at least.

She'd called in to work, left Gene a message telling him she wanted a 'me' night, turned off her phone, and promptly fell asleep. She didn't think that would come back to bite in her in the ass, of course. But she was oh so wrong, and she found that out only a few hours after she'd chugged some Nyquil and declared herself dead to the world.

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Gene had snuck into Sam's home (he had a spare key, but she honestly figured he wouldn't come over that day; he respected her 'me' time and was always completely cool with it) and was a little alarmed to find that all the lights were out. It wasn't normal behavior, and neither was the fact that his calls went straight to voicemail. He'd finally wheedled it out of Frannie that Sam was sick, and he'd sighed and called Babe, asking for a favor.

The red-head had been happy to comply.

Cue a few hours later when the two of them were sneaking into Sam's house with a thermos of Babe's chicken noodle soup (Sam would forgive him for disturbing her; he brought Babe as a peace offering).

"What the heck?" Babe muttered. "Dude, she must be _really_ sick if she isn't even watching those shitty romance movies she's always sucking us into."

Gene and Sam had been together now for over four months, and in that time, she'd completely glommed onto Babe, forcing him to join in on 'shitty movie night' once a week at the very least, and bringing him beer in exchange for food. Both complained that they were going to make each other fat, but they settled into a very easy friendship that Gene was glad to see.

The two moved further into the apartment, and Gene motioned for Babe to head to the kitchen to set the soup on the counter while he checked on Sam. The lights in her room were out, the door opened just slightly, and he peeked in, seeing nothing but a shapeless lump on her bed. "Sam?" he called, pushing open the door and closing it behind him. "You feelin' all right, chére?"

He heard a rustling from under the covers, and a low groan, and Sam's pink-tinged face peeked out at him in confusion, brows knit and eyes narrowed as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Gene?" she mumbled, trying to sit up. "What the heck are you doing here? It's a 'me' day…"

"'Me' days only count if ya aren't sick," he replied, stroking a hand over her forehead and feeling the fever in her skin.

"I'm not sick," she protested, trying to pull away from him and managing only a feeble, weak attempt.

"Yes you are."

"No. If I was sick, could I do _this_?"

Gene waited for something to happen, but she just kept staring at him with bleary, unfocused eyes. "Um…do what?"

"Cartwheels. Am I not doing them?"

He smothered a laugh before he gently pushed her back onto the bed. "No, not in the slightest. Lay down. Have you taken anything for this yet?"

"Nyquil? I think. I dunno. Everything is hazy."

Shaking his head, Gene lamented the way doctors and nurses always took care of other people better than they did themselves; he was guilty of it too. "Well, Babe an' I came to see how you was doin', and he made ya some soup." He saw her perk up just slightly, eyes brightening only a little, before her tiredness claimed her again. "You eaten anythin' today?"

"Nyquil, Gene. I ate Nyquil."

"Nyquil ain't food."

"It is when you feel like shit."

"You are the worst sick person I ever met."

Gene stood back up, smoothing his hand over her forehead and across her sweat-soaked hair, gently tucking the blankets around her. She immediately pulled them up closer, a smile curling over her face.

"You can come to bed, if you want," she muttered blearily, and he shook his head.

"I don' think I should. You need to get better. Babe's here. And I don' wanna catch whatever ya got."

"Come oooon," Sam whined, and he knew her words were fever induced. She looked like she was on the verge of conking out any second. "You, me, PJ's, bed. The PJ's are optional." She tried to waggle her eyebrows, but it looked more like a scrunched up sick face to Gene, and he held back his laughter for her sake.

"Temptin' as that sounds, I think that is best saved for another time. You get some sleep, an' when you wake up, you can have some soup. Sound good?"

"Yes, mother."

Gene scowled at her as she giggled sleepily, though his face smoothed into a fond expression as she drifted quickly off, her breathing evening out. He had to admit, despite his worry over her being sick, she was incredibly adorable. And her offer to come to bed was really, really tempting. But she needed her rest, and he gently patted her cheek, before he slipped out of the room and back into the kitchen.

Babe was lounging on the sofa, the TV already on and the volume down low as he flipped through channels.

"What the verdict, doc?" he asked, glancing up. "She okay, or what?"

"She's just a little sick," Gene admitted, stepping into the kitchen and placing the thermos of soup in the microwave to keep it from getting cold; it was better than the fried when it came to hot things. "She'll be fine with a lil' rest and some medicine." He looked torn as he went to settle next to Babe on the couch, chewing his lip thoughtfully. "I wish I had tomorrow off; she ain't goin' into work, but I gotta. I really wish someone could come check in on her."

"'Ey, tomorrow is Saturday, so I ain't got nothin' goin' on," Babe informed him. "Well, nothin' that can't be canceled. I'll stay with her tomorrow so you can go to work and not worry about your red-haired princess. Sound good?"

Gene swatted his friend in the shoulder at the teasing, but nodded nonetheless, relief flowing through him. "Thanks Babe, I 'preciate it."

The two fell into an easy silence, absently watching some cartoon or other on the television, with Babe not too interested and Gene not really seeing it as he thought of Sam and fretted over her.

"Hey Gene." 

Gene rolled his head towards Babe, frowning, and raised a brow in question.

"You called me 'Babe.'"

"I did? When?" He seemed genuinely surprised, and scowled when Babe laughed.

"Just now."

"Babe…I guess I did."

Babe grinned as he settled into the couch. A few seconds later, he gave his head a shake, imitating Gene's accent. "'Babe.'"

"Heffron, just watch the God damn cartoons, all right?"


	5. Sexy Sandwich

A/N: OMG so the first two weeks of school have been crazy. I have twenty four-year-olds to supervise and teach so its hectic. Plus I am also doing college classes at night to finish my credential, as well as my TPAs and Rica and…I don't sleep much. So to make up for taking so long, here's a somewhat longer chapter! I also finished 'Little Red Dress,' my Pacific Sledge x OC story if you wanna check it out! And 'Disguise' has updated! If you want more of these two nerds, check out their origin.

This is done purely for fun; I mean absolutely no offense by any of it! I hope no one is offended. I have nothing but the utmost respect for these men.

Inspired by the prompt: "You make a sexy sandwich."

8888

 **Part 5: Sexy Sandwich**

Long shifts at the hospital were literally the worst.

Sam decided that, while she loved her job, she really hated getting random stranger's blood all over her when he decided that he was fine pulling the eight inch nail he'd accidentally punctured his upper bicep with out on his own, _against_ her orders. And it wasn't even one of those days when Gene could swoop in and save her from the utter bullshit chaos of the emergency room; that lucky bastard had the day off.

She knew that he was waiting for her back at her house, but she hadn't known he was sleeping. So when she stepped through the door, her bones achy and her feet feeling like they were going to fall off, she scowled at his slumbering form draped across her couch. "God damn French asshole," she muttered, though she didn't really mean it. She was just pissed that he got Sunday off when she didn't.

Shuffling through the door, Sam dropped her bag beside it, trying to at least be a little considerate and not wake up her sleeping Soulmate. She edged around the house, towards the kitchen, and pulled open the refrigerator before closing it immediately with a sigh. Really, she just wanted a nap, no matter _how_ hungry she was. She silently longed for Babe and his delicious cooking, wishing she could just phone him up and ask him to bring her food. The sweet man that he was, he would probably do it, but there was no way she'd bother him with her grumbling stomach and laziness problems.

Although, the laziness was justified, if she did say so herself. She'd been working all night, and it was only one in the afternoon; no one, especially Sam, enjoyed the night shift in the ER. That song _The Freaks Come Out at Night_ was more frighteningly accurate than anyone really knew.

Grumbling under her breath, Sam shuffled her way back over to the couch, standing over Gene with her hands on her hips. He looked so damn peaceful, she almost didn't want to wake him up.

Almost.

Ignoring the fact that she had a perfectly good bed in her room that she was somewhat eager to get to, Sam placed her knee on the edge of the couch, just on the side of Gene's legs, and carefully eased her weight down, before letting herself plop down hard across his body.

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Gene woke with a startled cry and a violent jerk, nearly throwing his Soulmate onto the floor next to the couch before he realized what the hell had just happened. Sam propped her head up on her folded hands, resting comfortably against his chest, and grinned up at him.

Gene groaned. "Sam, what the hell? Yer lucky I didn't throw you halfway across the room."

"I'd land on my feet; I'm like a cat. A sneaky cat. You didn't even hear me come in, did you, you sleeping Cajun jerk?"

"Hey," Gene grouched, wrapping his arms around her and dragging her up his body so they could be nose to nose. "It's my day off. I can do whatever I like, includin' sleep. At least, I _could_ before someone decided to tackle me."

"But I'm hungry. Can you feed me and tell me I'm pretty, Gene?"

Sighing, Gene leaned forward and kissed her nose, a grin winding its way onto his face when she scowled at him, obviously expecting him to get up and get her food. "I can tell you you're pretty. But you an' I both know that the only one with _any_ cookin' skill between us is you. I ain't even gonna try."

"I'm running off to marry Babe. You're dead to me now."

Gene laughed as Sam dropped her head onto his chest, making a forlorn sound in the back of her throat. He squeezed her waist, mockingly remarking: "How will I ever survive? No one will feed me. I'll starve."

"Then _starve_ , you jerk. Now you know how _I_ feel."

"Fine, fine," Gene muttered, kissing the top of her head. She was amusing when she was tired, but he didn't want to torture her. She deserved something to eat after such a long day. "Get up an' I'll go and try and make you somethin' edible."

"But I'm comfortable."

Rolling his eyes, Gene managed to shimmy sideways, letting Sam flop onto the couch where he'd been laying and lamenting his lost sleeping spot when she immediately snuggled into the warmth he was leaving and cuddled his pillow to her. "Ya know, you shouldn't be able to have this both ways."

"Fooooood."

Gene chuckled as he headed into the kitchen, pulling out the ingredients to make her a sandwich; despite what Babe said of his abysmal skills in the kitchen, he made a pretty mean cheese sandwich (which was Sam's favorite; she wasn't a fan of meat, he'd discovered). "Let me guess; barbeque Lay's, right?"

"Between the cheese and the bread!"

She was really weird, and so were her tastes in food. He glanced over his shoulder to see her watching him with a tired smile, and felt his heart leap into his chest; he still couldn't quite believe that she was his Soulmate. But every time he caught sight of the quicksilver words on his hip in the mirror, it reminded him that all of this was real. And every time Sam ran her fingers along those same words, it reminded him…

"You make such a sexy sandwich."

Gene almost dropped the knife he was using to spread the mayo, and shot her a surprised look over his shoulder. Her eyes were closed, and there was a large, dreamy smile on her face. She was going to be out as soon as she ate her sandwich, he had a feeling, but in the meantime, her sleepy banter was amusing.

"And _you_ make a sexy sneaky cat," he retorted, crunching the barbeque chips between the top piece of bread and setting it on a plate. He grabbed a soda from the fridge and headed back over, setting the plate and soda on the table while he moved her feet and plopped back down on the couch. Sam instantly draped her legs over him, and he found himself pinned. "Hey, you gotta get up to eat. Don' be lazy."

"But I wanna be." Regardless of her words, Sam dragged herself up into a sitting position, feet still in his lap, and eagerly grabbed for her plate. Gene watched in mild disgust as she crunched into her sandwich, devouring it in only a few minutes.

"I have no idea how you can eat that stuff. You're so weird."

"I like being weird. Weird is all I've got. That and my sweet style."

Gene rolled his eyes.

"Careful; one of these days you're going to roll your eyes straight into a different plane of existence."

Giggling to herself, Sam popped the last chip into her mouth before Gene swooped over and grabbed her around the waist. "Gah!" she cried as he lifted her off the couch and into the air, dropping her over his shoulder. "God damn it, what are you, a caveman?"

"Maybe," he replied, spinning in a circle.

"You're gonna make me throw up."

"You'd better not!"

Sam gripped the back of his shirt for dear life. "So what now exactly?" she demanded, and she felt him pat her bottom as he started heading down the hall to her bedroom. When he didn't reply, Sam propped her chin up on her arm, swinging against his back as he walked, and decided to try something. "I think you'll be happy to know that I'm not wearing any underwear."

Gene nearly tripped and stumbled into the wall, and Sam grabbed his shirt like a frightened cat, cackling loudly as he swore under his breath in French. "Don' say things like that. Not unless you wanna reap what you sow, chére," he growled, and Sam felt a shiver run up her spine as his grip tightened on her and he quickened his pace.

Huh. Maybe she should come home tired more often. This was the most fun she'd had all day.


	6. Boo

A/N: Sorry for being so busy! Okay, so yeah, I am shamelessly addicted to The Pacific as well, so I absolutely had to add these boys in there. Probably going to bring them up again sometime soon because yes. Just yes. 'Dangerous Disguise' was also updated if you want more Gene x Sam nerd fluff! I also have 'Little Red Dress' which is a Sledge x OC fic that you might hate me for. Check it out!

As always, reviews are so appreciated.

This is done purely for fun; I mean absolutely no offense by any of it! I hope no one is offended. I have nothing but the utmost respect for these men.

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_

 **Part 6: Boo**

Elizabeth Nixon was a well-meaning woman, but she could be a bit overwhelming after a while.

Sam sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day as Lizzie, as she preferred to be called, followed her on her rounds through the ER and prattled on about nonsense. Sam was only half listening as she carefully inspected a little boy who had been brought in with a twisted ankle.

"You'll be fine, sweetheart," she told him as he hiccupped into his mother's shoulder. "We're gonna put some ice on it and wrap it, and you'll feel right as rain in a little while. Can you be a big boy for me and dry those tears?" The boy nodded hesitantly, and Sam smiled, reaching into one of her scrub pockets and pulling out a lollipop from the stash of candy she kept on her for just such occasions. She watched as his face lit up and he took it, before Sam looked to his mother. "I'll send someone in to wrap that ankle right now. Until then…" She stepped over to the counter, reaching up and pulling out an Instant Cold ice pack.

"Here, Lizzie. Press this to his ankle. I'll be right back."

The brunette nodded hesitantly, before doing as she was told, flinching a little when the boy hissed in pain. Sam looked them over once, before stepping quickly out of the bay and sighing. She caught the arm of one of the other nurses, nodding her head to the room behind her. "Can you do me a favor and relieve Lizzie of her burden in there? The kid just sprained his ankle; he needs a cold compress and a good wrap. Make sure you advise his mother on how to look after it." The nurse nodded, and Sam made her way to the nurses' station, dropping off the boy's charts.

He was her last patient for the day, and she breathed a huge sigh of relief. Eugene had gone home an hour earlier, and she couldn't wait to see him. They were supposed to go out for drinks with some of the guys and she planned to meet him at the bar. She'd grown fond of Eugene's 'military family,' as he liked to call them, and had slowly been introduced to more and more of the men from his company until she knew who each one was by sight and name.

"Hey, Sam, um…thanks for entertaining me today."

Sam turned to see Lizzie edging in to stand next to her, for once looking subdued. It wasn't that she didn't like her; Sam just preferred silence when working, or at least, not so much prattle. Elizabeth Nixon was the sister of Lewis Nixon, one of Eugene's captains. Lewis was also the best friend of the commanding officer of Easy, Dick Winters.

Sam had met both men, and she found Dick to be the more agreeable of the two; he was quiet, reserved, and very easy to get along with. And he secretly liked the cheesy romance movies she watched, so they had that in common. She'd even invited him over for a 'shitty movie weekend' with her, and he'd shown up with Lewis Nixon in tow. Lewis had eaten all her cheetohs, but besides that, she had a really nice time with the two and they'd become fairly good friends.

Shrugging, Sam flashed Lizzie a smile as she set the chart down. "No problem, Liz." When the silence stretched on between them, Sam looked up from the last of her paperwork to see Lizzie staring at her with wide eyes, in a gaze that reminded her of lost puppies and her annoying ass brother, Lewis. _Oh, God damn it, she wants something from me._ "Uh…did you need something else?"

"Well, I was just wondering if I could buy you dinner or something to show my appreciation."

"Not to…sound rude…but I'm already in a committed relationship."

Lizzie sputtered, and then burst into laughter as Sam grinned; she'd only been half serious. The last thing she needed was anyone harboring unnecessary crushes in the workplace. Well, besides Eugene of course.

"No, no. I mean, really. I want to say thank you. I know I can be a bit…much. Lewis tells me I talk too much, and I probably talked your damn ear off today. But I really appreciate you offering to mentor me as I work on my medical license and…Well, yeah. So if you weren't busy, I'd totally love to buy you dinner."

Dinner sounded good. _Food_ , actually, sounded good. But food always sounded good to Sam. She thought for a moment, and then decided that it couldn't hurt to be friendly. "Well, I might take you up on that. I'm going out with my Soulmate and a bunch of men from his company. Your brother _might_ even be there but I dunno; if you'd like to come, you could totally buy me dinner, but only if you let _me_ buy you a drink." Sam winked as Lizzie laughed. "Deal?"

"Sure, Sam! Sounds like a plan."

888

The two women stepped into the Currahee Bar & Grill and were immediately assaulted by the smell of delicious food.

None of the men seemed to be here yet, or at least, none that Sam could see, and she'd texted Gene to let him know she was bringing a friend and would meet him at the bar. Neither nurse had changed out of their scrubs, not really worried about their appearance. They'd been in scrubs all day long, and had miraculously managed to keep them clean for once, so they figured they were as good as any other clothes.

"They aren't here yet," Sam informed Lizzie, glancing at the text on her phone that told her the guys were running a little late; she could practically feel Eugene's exasperation in the words, and she smiled faintly, before sticking her phone back in her pocket. "So we might as well get a booth or somethin'. Come on."

She motioned for Lizzie to follow her, and the two women weaved their way through the already pretty sizeable crowd of servicemen and civilians alike. "Looks like the Marines have taken over the place," Lizzie whispered in Sam's ear with a giggle, dodging around a laughing soldier. "Is it always this crowded?"

"Not usually," Sam admitted. They might have a hard time getting a booth, but she managed to spy one that hadn't yet been taken over near the end of the bar. "Come on, hurry!"

The two women quickly slid into the space, laughing as they plopped down on the smooth leather of the bench. "This was lucky," Lizzie commented. "Any idea when the boys will be joining us?"

Sam was spared from answering as one of the regular waitresses, a nice young woman with dark hair who was often the one who took care of Easy company when they were customers, stepped towards their tables. "Hey Sam!" she greeted, and Sam nodded with a smile.

"Lena, how's it goin'?"

"It's good," Lena replied, flipping open her little notebook and cocking a hip. "So, you guys alone tonight? Or will the boys be joinin' you? I take it you aren't going to wait for them to get some food ordered; you look like you just got off a long shift."

"It's like you're a psychic, Lena. I'm starving, and I know Lizzie is too. I'll have a burger and fries, the usual. Coke, please." She glanced at Lizzie as Lena wrote down the order quickly, and the woman nodded.

"I'll take the same."

"Sounds good girls. Be back in a flash with your food. Cokes first?"

"Nah, just with the burgers. We can wait."

"All right, be back soon."

Sam and Lizzie watched her go, before Lizzie turned to Sam excitedly. "So, Lew tells me that this is where you and Eugene sorta had your first real date?"

"If you can call me running out on him after we danced a date, then yeah, sure."

"You ran out on him?"

"It's a long story, Lizzie. But I-" Sam was spared from having to finish answering as their booth suddenly became a little more occupied than it had been before. Two men had slid in with them, one on each side, and effectively blocked them from escaping. Sam's face instantly dropped into a scowl, and the man nearest to her cackled loudly.

"What's with that face, darlin'? You're gonna hurt ol' Snafu's feelin's."

"Oh, I didn't know they let little girls into the Marines," Sam replied, turning to face him and narrowing her eyes. "Why don't the two of you beat it? We're waiting for people to join us and you're taking up their seats."

But the man, whose name was apparently Snafu—what the fuck kind of name was that? —just laughed and took a long drink from his half full cup of beer. "Nah, I think I like where we sittin'. What's your name, darlin'?"

"None of your business."

Lizzie was trying to hold in her giggles with her hand, but they were managing to escape, and the man next to her was grinning as well. He had bright red hair, and a boyish face that was spoiled by the intense look in his eyes. "Wow, ya'll are mean," the red-head commented. "But I guess it's just 'cuz we didn't introduce ourselves." He held out a hand for Lizzie to shake, and she took it with a tentative smile. "That idiot next to your friend there-" He pointed at a lazily grinning Snafu. "-is Merriell Shelton. Just call him Snafu. I'm Eugene Sledge. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Eugene," Lizzie replied, looking smitten.

"Okay, hi, yeah. _Very_ nice to meet you." Sam elbowed the man beside her, Snafu, when he got a little too close. "But really, we are waiting on some people to join us, and they might _not_ if they see you guys sitting here."

"But everywhere else is full," Snafu replied. "An' this booth is mighty comfy. Who you waitin' on anyway? Your boyfriends?"

"No," Lizzie replied. "Some guys from Easy Company; paratroopers."

"Sky trained boys, huh?" Snafu remarked, smirking over the rim of his cup. "What you want _them_ for?"

Sam leaned back in the booth, pinching the bridge of her nose. "For your information, one of them is my _Soulmate_. And one is her brother."

"You still haven't told us your names," Snafu reminded her, leaning in eagerly.

Sam wrinkled her nose. "If it will make you go away, then you can have them. I'm Sam, that's Lizzie. Now shoo."

"Yo' boy," Snafu continued, as though he hadn't heard. "Where he from?"

"Excuse me?"

"Just curious. Maybe I know him."

"I doubt it."

"I know a lotta people."

"Louisiana."

Snafu blinked, looking as if he'd just been struck by some sort of revelation. "What? You ain't kiddin' are ya?"

Sam folded her arms over her stomach, closing her eyes. Maybe if she tried hard enough, she could make them go away with her mind. "I'm _not_ kidding, no. He's from Louisiana. Why? Why is that a thing that is an _important_ thing?"

"Hell, girl, I'm from Louisiana too. Yo' boy a Cajun too?" He clearly meant it as a joke, but when Sam fixed him with a look, his smile faded. "Wait. You tellin' me he actually _is_ a Cajun too? No God damn way."

"Wow," Sledge commented, raising his eyebrows. "That is some _serious_ coincidence right there."

"So…you're from Louisiana?" Sam asked. " _And_ a Cajun? Well, holy shit. I guess that _is_ some serious coincidence." So maybe they weren't such terrible guys; she just didn't like them taking up the booth when they had been saving it for Gene and the guys. "Maybe you know Gene."

"Gene…That name don't sound familiar," Snafu admitted, leaning back in the booth and throwing an arm over Sam's shoulder. "But maybe if we stick aroun' I'll get to meet 'im and then we can _see_ if I know 'im. Whatchoo think, boo?"

"I think you should definitely _not_ put your arm around me if you don't want it broken."

Snafu and the rest of the men laughed, and Lizzie giggled quietly under her breath. "Your boy gon' break it for me, boo?" Snafu taunted, and Sam pinched his hand, watching as he retreated with a yelp, rubbing the abused appendage and shooting her an accusatory look.

"No. I am perfectly capable of breaking it myself, thank you. Listen, you guys are welcome to stay here…I _guess_. But if you get too close to me, I _will_ scratch your eyes out."

The two man broke into another round of laughter, and out of the corner of her eye, Sam could see that Snafu had gotten comfortable in the booth, leaning back with a contented look on his face. Mentally, she despaired of them going anywhere, and decided that she'd just accept their presence for now. He was way too cozy for her comfort, sitting a little too close and his knee and leg and hip were brushing hers. She scooted closer to Lizzie in response.

Lena broke up the silence that had descended by reappearing with their food and cokes, sliding it towards Sam and Lizzie and shooting the red-haired nurse a sympathetic look as she strolled off. Snafu snagged a fry from Sam's plate, and she instantly fixed him with a death glare that had him pausing before it even reached his mouth.

" _No one_ steals my food," she hissed, curling a possessive arm around her plate. "Do it again, and I'll bite you."

"That a _promise_ , boo?" Snafu asked, leaning forward with a grin as he popped the fry into his mouth.

Beside them, Sledge and Lizzie were rolling their eyes, and Lizzie silently pushed her plate towards him to offer him a fry. The red-haired soldier took one with a grin, watching as the pretty nurse blushed darkly. Sam might be taken, but Lizzie hadn't said she was, so maybe there was hope for him. She _was_ pretty cute, after all.

While Sam was busy guarding her food from Snafu, who was turning stealing a fry from her into a _very_ dangerous game, Lizzie busied herself chatting quietly with Sledge. None of the table's occupants noticed the group of men that walked through the door, eyes scanning over the crowded bar in search of the two women.

8888

Babe was the first to see them, and he tapped Gene's shoulder, pointing to the booth near the bar.

"Who the fuck are _those_ guys?" George asked, following their line of sight and tilting his head.

"Marines," Toye snorted, sounding incredibly unimpressed. "Marines who don't know their fuckin' place."

"Down boy," Babe laughed, but Gene was silently thinking that he might be inclined to agree with Toye. The two men who were in the booth with Sam and Elizabeth Nixon looked like they were awful close, and trying to get even closer. The one beside Sam kept stealing her fries, and she'd swat angrily at him in a way that reminded Gene of how she ate at home, with him trying to pilfer food from her plate and her very nearly body tackling him to get it back.

"Think we should go kick those two bums outta the booth?" Bill asked, sizing up the two men and deciding that he could probably take them alone if he had to; they didn't look like much to him.

"We might as well be a lil' friendly," Gene drawled, though he was itching to smack that smug smile off the face of the man beside Sam. He told himself he was just being silly, and shook his head, allowing Babe to lead the way towards the booth.

When they reached the booth, he could feel his fellow soldiers fanning out behind him, as though forming some sort of wall that would separate the corner from the rest of the room. Mentally rolling his eyes, Gene cleared his throat, catching the attention of the people at the table. "Hey there, Sam," he greeted, ignoring Babe who waved excitedly.

Gene watched Sam's eyes widen, and she was immediately shoving at the man beside her.

"God damn it," she snapped, brows drawn down over a stormy face. "Get the fuck out of my way, Snafu!"

When the man, Snafu, only laughed and refused to do as she asked, Gene felt his own dark look slide into place. But Sam was quick to remedy the situation by slipping under the table and popping up on the other side right in front of him. She immediately threw her arms around his neck and he responded by snaking his around her waist and pulling her to him, placing a chaste, welcoming kiss on her lips.

"Hey yourself, Gene. What took you guys so long? Wait, wait. Don't tell me." She rolled her eyes to the red-head at Gene's side, and smirked. "Babe was doing his hair?"

"'Ey. Looks like mine take _effort_ and _maintenance_."

"Yeah, we can't all wake up beautiful, I guess."

"You're a heartless woman, Sam," Babe whined, before Sam wriggled away from Gene to throw her arms around Babe in greeting. Gene took the opportunity to look over the two men at the table discreetly, eyes narrowing on the one who snuck a fry from Sam's plate.

They were normal looking enough, wearing casual military ODs and lounging around on the booth. The one beside Lizzie looked remarkably similar to Babe, but his eyes were far too dark and clouded to be as carefree as the Philadelphian. The other one, the one that made Gene the most uncomfortable, had blue eyes and dark hair, and he watched the activity around him with a sharp gaze and a lazy smirk that the Easy Company medic was definitely not fond of.

"Uh, hi," the red haired Marine greeted the paratroopers, glancing between his buddy and Lizzie. "Hey, sorry we're intruding on your night. I'm Eugene Sledge. That's Merriell Shelton." He pointed to the man across from him. "We can high tail it if you don't want us here, no problem." He seemed genuinely worried that the men would be upset if they stayed, but George Luz slid into the booth beside him, smiling amiably.

"Ah, hell. We ain't bothered by you guys. Besides, if the girls didn't want ya here, Sam would've flipped you over the table by now. So, ya know, congrats on still being alive and everything. I'm George Luz by the way. That's Joe Toye, Bill Guarnere, Babe Heffron, and Eugene Roe."

"I'm gonna go get some beer," Toye grumbled, clearly not sharing George's opinion on the Marines staying at their table. "Bill, come on. I could use a hand." 

Bill, who had been silent up until that point, pointedly rolled his eyes over towards Gene, who nodded subtly and shrugged, sliding in to sit behind Shelton and reaching forward to slide Sam's food over to the end of the booth so she could sit next to him. He tried to ignore the look the Marine beside him was shooting him, and patted the booth for Sam to sit down.

"This yo' boo?" Shelton drawled, leaning forward on his elbows as Sam slid into the booth and Babe scooted in beside her. At the familiar drawl and cadence of the man's words, Gene looked at him sharply, eyes suddenly narrowing.

"Yep, this is my Gene," Sam quipped as she motioned to him, and Gene felt a swell of pride in his chest at her introduction; it was _much_ nicer than George's. "Gene, you won't believe it. But Snafu is from Louisiana too, _and_ he's a Cajun."

"That so?" Gene asked, eyeing the man beside him. Maybe he should have made Babe slide into the booth first; he suddenly didn't feel like he wanted to be sitting next to this 'Snafu.'

"It's so," Snafu replied, taking a drink of his beer. "Yo' girl sho is nice; she shared her fries with me an' every'thin."

"More like you pilfered them, you jerk," Sam retorted, taking a bite of her burger. "Want some fries, Gene?"

Gene carefully grabbed a few, considering himself blessed that Sam had actually offered him some of her food, rather than hissing at him and trying to hoard it away. He locked eyes with Snafu as he popped one of the fries into his mouth. "You here on leave or somethin', Snafu?" he asked amiably, but the other man could sense the hostility, and the corners of his mouth quirked up in a wicked smile.

"Sho am. Jus' out to have a lil' fun. Sam here looked like quite the firecracker; most red-heads are, ya know. So the Sledgehammer an' I figured we'd come to talk to 'em. She done proved me right, yeah. You sho is one lucky bastard, Eugene Roe."

Joe and Bill chose that moment to return with drinks, and Sledge took the opportunity to slide out of the booth, nudging George and gesturing meaningfully with his eyes. George nodded quickly, scooting out to let the Marine free and Sledge breathed a sigh of relief; there was no way he was about to break up a God damn brawl just because Snafu wanted to rile up another Cajun and his Soulmate. No _fuckin'_ way. The bonds of brotherhood in battle only went so far. Besides, he'd already gotten Lizzie's number, so he was good.

"Snafu, we should get goin' back to barracks. Bill and Burgy will be wonderin' where we got to. Come on."

Lizzie scooched out of the booth quickly so Snafu could leave, the tension making her move faster than she normally would have. Sam had stopped chewing her burger, lips pressed tightly together as she stared between Eugene and Snafu, who hadn't dropped eye contact since the latter had spoken. Very slowly, still smirking like the devil himself, Snafu slid out of the booth, beer still in hand. Eugene didn't look away, scowl firmly in place as he contemplated how hard he'd have to hit the guy to knock him out with one punch.

"Well, guess yo' right, Sledgehammer. We should get back to barracks." He took one last drink and set his empty beer cup back on the table. "Sho was nice meetin' ya'll. 'Specially you, Sam. Thanks for the fries, the good conversation, and the _fun_ time. I hope we meet again soon." He winked, and edged around Toye, who was glowering as darkly as Gene, ready and probably more willing to punch the cheek out of the _way_ -too-fresh Marine.

Sledge grabbed Snafu's arm and beat a hasty exit, his sense of self-preservation far greater than his friend's. "What the fuck is your problem?" he hissed quietly as they weaved through the crowd. Snafu only chuckled lowly, looking back over his shoulder once at the glaring group of Paratroopers before Sledge dragged him all the way out of the bar.

"Stirrin' the pot," he replied, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette. "That's all."

888888

The car ride home with Gene was a little too tense for Sam's liking.

After the Marines had left, the atmosphere had been pretty well ruined, and Sam had quickly finished her dinner and bid goodbye to the men and Lizzie (who had decided to leave at the same time; she didn't really talk to anyone, and Sam felt bad that she hadn't stayed to introduce her), all but pushing Gene out the bar in front of her. Babe had tried to stop her and ask her what was wrong, but she'd only gestured meaningfully to her Soulmate with her hand, and he'd nodded slowly, muttering that she should "take him home already if he's going to be such a fuckin' wet blanket."

Gene still hadn't said a word, even when they pulled into her driveway and he turned off the SUV. Sam finally sighed, turning in her seat to face him. "Okay," she demanded. "Whatever you wanna say, you better say it. And for the record, you don't _need_ to be pissed off right now."

"I'm not…pissed off," Gene began haltingly, but even Sam could tell he didn't believe his own words.

"You've been acting like a bulled up puppy since Snafu made that stupid comment about me. If it bothered you so much, you should've just punched him and been done with it. He was annoying, but he was harmless. He was probably just trying to get a rise out of you." She made a vague gesture with her hands in the air. "For some reason, you men always like to cause trouble with each other. He was probably playing Alpha Cajun with you."

Sam saw Gene's lips quirk just slightly as he turned to look at her, raising one brow. "Alpha Cajun, huh?" he echoed. Unclipping his belt, he ran a hand through his hair, sighing softly. "Sorry, Sam. I jus' don't like guys like that. Fuckin' assholes who just say things for the sake of _being_ an asshole. His friend seemed okay, but that Snafu fella? I dunno." He shrugged his shoulder. " _Maybe_ he…made me jealous. Maybe. I'm not sayin' he _did_."

Sam quirked her lips as Gene looked over at her with a pitiful expression, and she reached out and gently tugged on his cheeks, turning them up in a smile, making him sputter with laughter and swat at her hands. "Don't be jelly, Gene."

"Well, he said you gave him some of yo' food. And when _I_ try to get some, ya hiss at me and call me the spawn of Satan."

"I do _not_!"

"The last time I took some chips off your plate you started yelling dramatically about needing a 'young priest and an old priest' and then flicked soda at me and said 'the power of Christ compels you to give me back my chips!' before you tackled me to the floor and took them back by force."

"…That… _might_ have happened…"

Gene fixed her with a look, and Sam puffed out her cheeks when he laughed. "Sorry, Sam. I won't act like a 'bulled up puppy' no more. I can't promise I won't punch that guy the next time I see him, but eh." He shrugged. "Marines _ain't_ paratroopers."

"Of course they aren't, Gene," Sam replied, blowing the air out of her cheeks and unbuckling her belt. She flung open the car door, stepping out and watching as he did the same, before she dug around in her pocket for her house keys. "You know," she commented, finding her key and holding it up in the porch light. "I'll admit; you are really adorable when you're jealous."

"I think you mean 'manly and intimidating.'"

"I compared you to a _puppy_ , Gene. There is nothing 'manly and intimidating' about you."

Sam had only just gotten the door open when she found herself being scooped up into Gene's arms and carried inside. She squeaked, nearly dropping her key as he kicked the door shut and set her on the island counter that separated the living room from the kitchen beside the front door. "Gene, what the fu-" Her loud shriek of annoyance was cut off by his lips as they came crashing down on hers.

"Okay, wh-what-" Sam tried again, pushing at Gene's shoulders just slightly, but that only succeeded in forcing him to switch from her lips to her neck, and she clamped her mouth shut to muffle the moan that would have escaped as he settled between her legs, hands clamped on her hips.

"I'm _attemptin'_ to change your mind," Gene muttered against her skin, and Sam sucked in a sharp gasp as his breath ghosted over her neck.

"Oh," she murmured, fingers reaching up to find his hair and tearing a groan from his lips. "Then by all means, please, _please_ do."


End file.
